He reached through the magical border and yanked her inside. She yelped in surprise, but recovered quickly.
As he caught his breath, he scanned their surroundings. Wagon-wheel grooves marked the forest floor and led to a mouth of a cave a few feet away. The illusion camouflaged the cave’s entrance so the border patrols would walk right by it.
Onora peered inside then entered. She returned with an unlit torch. “Looks like the cave’s in use. Could this be a hideout?”
“Was there any evidence that someone is living in there?”
“It’s narrow and I couldn’t see far. There might be a bigger cavern farther in.”
“Then light the torch and we’ll go have a look.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Define crazy.”
“Walking right into a trap.” She stabbed the tip of her dagger at the cave.
Janco crouched on the ground. “The wagon marks are a few days old. No fresh boot prints. I don’t think the cave is occupied at the moment.”
“So now you have a cave vibe, too?”
“Okay, Little Miss Assassin, what do you suggest we do?”
“Hide and wait. See who comes out or goes in.”
Oh. Actually, that was a pretty good plan. Annoyed he hadn’t thought of it, Janco crossed his arms. “For how long?”
“For as long as it takes.”
“What about our mission?” And then it hit him. “This could be what we’re searching for—a way for the smugglers to cross the border without being seen.”
“If it tunnels under the border into Sitia, and if it isn’t just a hideout.”
“Killjoy.”
“If I was going to kill, it wouldn’t be joy.” Onora gave him a pointed look.
He laughed. “You wouldn’t be the first person who wished me dead, sweetheart.”
She flinched at the endearment and shoved her weapons into their holders to cover her...anger? No. Fear? Not quite. More like an old nightmare that hadn’t faded. He waited for her to threaten him with bodily harm if he used “sweetheart” again, but Onora kept quiet. Smart. If she’d fussed, he’d use it all the time just to goad her. Ari had called it childish, but Janco used it as a tool. He needed to discover just how much tolerance she had and where her breaking point was.
“How did you see through the illusion?” she asked. “Do you have magic?”
“Oh no. Not at all. I’m allergic to magic.” He explained about the warning pain. “I had no idea what it hid.”
“Since you can sense it, you should find a position outside the illusion, and I’ll stay inside,” she said.
He glanced around. There wasn’t much room. “Where—”
“Not many people look up.” She shoved her boots and cape inside her pack, then stashed it out of sight. Onora climbed the rough stone wall next to the cave’s mouth until she reached the apex. Settling into a comfortable position, she shooed Janco.
He paused. She appeared to blend in with the gray stones and brown earth that had collected in the nooks of the rock face. Janco glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck. Lack of sleep could do strange things to a guy. He turned to assess her line of vision so he didn’t watch the same patch of forest. Except she’d disappeared.
“Get going before someone shows up.” Her voice sounded above his head.
Holy snow cats! Did she...? Was she...? He stepped closer to the cave’s entrance, expecting his scar to burn. It didn’t. Maybe the illusion’s magic covered her power. He rubbed the spot as he considered.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Uh, just checking something.” Janco poked his head into the cave as if it contained all the answers. It didn’t. Unless darkness had something to do with the mystery of Onora. Perhaps it did. Perhaps—
“Janco.”
Her irritation snapped him from his thoughts. “All right, I’m going.” He braced for the pain as he crossed the illusion. It flared to life, stabbing into his head. Janco kept walking until the intense stinging dulled to a tolerable level. Then he found a place to hide.
His thoughts circled back to Onora. In all their time together, Janco had never felt that creepy crawly sensation along his skin, which he’d learned meant magic was in use but not directed at him. Hard to describe. It was like hearing an echo.
She could be one of those One-Trick Wonders who had enough magic to do only one single thing like light a fire or spot a liar. Hey, that rhymed—he’d have to remember that for later. Perhaps her power was blending in with her surroundings like a chameleon. No wonder she’d reached the Commander and escaped the dungeon. For an assassin to have that ability...was pretty sweet! Of course, he could be way off base. The pain from the illusion might have screwed with his vision.
But as he waited for...well, anything at this point. Talk about bored. Janco remembered the times he and Onora had encountered a patrol and she’d melted into the forest. The creepy crawlies hadn’t attacked him then, but her ability to disappear seemed...off. He decided to not jump to conclusions—Ari would be proud—and keep an eye on Little Miss Assassin, see if she had any more tricks.
The day dragged, limping toward twilight. Janco’s stiff muscles complained about the inactivity. His stomach growled. Wonderful. He’d wait until full dark and then take a break. After all, a man had to eat and sleep and pee.
* * *
A rumbling creak woke him from a light doze. Darkness surrounded him. It took him a moment to orient himself—Snake Forest—on lookout—with Onora. Check.
A harness jingled and the thud of horse hooves on the ground vibrated under him. Soon two wagon teams rolled into view. The figures sitting on the benches didn’t have a lantern, but there was enough moonlight to discern big obstacles like trees. Besides, most horses just needed to be pointed down a trail. They instinctively followed the cleared path.
As they passed his hiding spot, Janco noticed a burlap blanket covering the lumpy contents of the wagon. Intrigued, he followed the wagons as they neared the illusion then slowed.
“Where’s that damn cave?” one man asked. “Did we miss it?”
“No, it’s a little further,” his companion said.
“Just stop here,” a woman called from the second wagon. “The horses get too skittish if we get closer. Mattison will meet us.”
They unhitched the horses and fed and watered them. They appeared to be waiting for this Mattison. Too curious to stay put, Janco crept up behind the second wagon, noting the long and narrow bed. He lifted the blanket, revealing barrels. Words had been burned into the oak, but it was too dark to read them.
A bright yellow glow pierced the illusion, momentarily blinding him. Three huge men carried torches and pulled a small cart. Another set of three big brutes emerged, but they didn’t tow anything. All six men wore some type of leather harness.
The two groups merged. Janco slipped back into the forest while they were distracted.
“Anyone follow you?” one of the big brutes asked.
“You kidding? No one’s around for miles,” the wagon leader said. “How much did you get?”
“Six golds a barrel.”
“Next time ask for eight. It’s getting harder to smuggle this stuff out. Valek’s got his dogs sniffing around.”
An indignant huff sounded next to Janco. He jumped and clamped down on a cry.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he whispered to Onora.
“Assassin, remember?”
“But I’m on your side.”
She shrugged. “Habit.”
“Did you see what’s in the cart from the cave?” he asked.
“Yes. A few small barrels.”
They watched the smugglers as they hitched one wagon to the three big men, attaching the chains to their harnesses
, and then they hooked up the other three with the other wagon. Odd. Why not use the horses?
“I’m going to crawl under the burlap on that second wagon,” Onora whispered. “You track the cart and see where it goes. We’ll meet back here once we learn what’s going on.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she disappeared. While the others were distracted hooking up the men and horses, the blanket rippled and the wagon creaked under the additional weight. No one but Janco noticed.
After they finished, the smugglers made arrangements for another meeting, then headed in opposite directions. The horses pulled the cart from the cave back into the forest, and the men lugged the two wagons toward the cave.
Ah. The horses either couldn’t fit inside the tunnel or were too scared to go underground. Onora’s plan had merit, but Janco still didn’t trust her. And Valek had ordered him to keep an eye on her.
Janco waited a few minutes before dashing through the illusion. A brief surge of fire ringed his head before dying down. The circle of torchlight retreated deeper into the cave. He summoned the courage to follow. Janco hoped it was a short tunnel.
After all, he hadn’t had time to eat or pee.
23
YELENA
I released the reedwither plant and spread my hands wide.
“Good. Now stand and turn around slowly,” the man behind me ordered.
Wondering why Kiki hadn’t warned me of his presence, I straightened and faced him. A tall and muscular Sandseed warrior watched me. I didn’t recognize him. He held a scimitar in his left hand and another dagger in his right. His skin was the color of shadows and he had a green-and-brown-patterned cloth wrapped around his waist. It must be for modesty because the rest of his body was bare despite the cold.
Unconcerned, Kiki grazed nearby.
“You must continue on your journey,” he said.
Not a chance. “I need to collect—”
“It is forbidden to harvest the reedwither.”
“Why?”
“It is a powerful poison.”
“I know. I may have been injected with it.”
“Not possible. You are alive.”
I stifled a sarcastic retort. No need to upset the well-armed man. “I have healing abilities. I may have stopped the poison from killing me.”
He stepped closer. “I sense no magic from you.”
All right, time to try another tactic. “I’m friends with almost all of the surviving Sandseeds, but I’ve never seen you before. Who are you?”
The Sandseed puffed out his broad chest. “I am the guardian of the reedwither plants.”
Plants. As in plural. At least there were more.
“Do not think you can steal from another patch,” he said. “I watch all.”
And that would only be possible if... “There’s a magical shield over the plants, and when it’s broken, you appear.”
“Yes.” His eyebrows pinched together, rippling his bald head.
“And you wait in the shadow world.”
“How do you know this?” he demanded.
“I’ve been to the shadow world.”
“Not possible. You are not a Sandseed Story Weaver.”
“I was the Soulfinder.”
“Was?” Confusion gripped his expression. “You cannot undo what is done.”
“I wish that was true, but someone poisoned me with reedwither and now my Soulfinding days are over. That’s why I need a sample so I can take it to my father and have him produce an antidote.”
“Who is your father?”
“Esau Liana Zaltana.” Although I had no idea how his name would help.
“I know this Esau.”
Then again... Hope rose.
“He will not be able to aid you. This plant cannot do what you claim.”
“How can you be so sure? No one has used it on a Soulfinder before.”
“True.” He tucked his weapons into the cloth around his waist. “But I know I have not been called from the shadow world to protect the plant for many years.”
I considered. Some substances remained potent for years. “Did they succeed?”
“No one has since I have been on duty. Before I died, my life threads were woven into the reedwither plant so I could protect it while in the shadow world.”
“How long ago?”
“Back when your father, Esau, was a curious young boy, visiting the plains for the first time. Esau asked so many questions, I thought our elders would send him home early.”
Sounded like my father. A mix of emotions rolled through me. If the poison wasn’t from the reedwither plant, then what had caused my magic to disappear?
The Sandseed moved closer and spread his hands. “May I?”
“May you what?”
“Read the threads of your life.”
“You’re a Story Weaver?”
“Yes.”
Sifting through the logic, I couldn’t think of a reason not to let him. Perhaps a ghost Story Weaver would be able to discover what happened to my magic. “All right. What’s your name?”
“Midnight Son.” He grasped my hand. “There is a...barrier.”
I’d forgotten about the null shields. Releasing his grip, I removed my cloak and pulled the octopus pendant from around my neck, setting it down with care. A cold breeze caressed my skin and I shivered.
Midnight Son took my hand in both of his. Heat enveloped my skin and I panicked for a moment, remembering the Fire Warper. Stupid of me to trust so easily. Midnight Son could be from the fire world. And now I was unprotected.
“You do need to be more careful,” Midnight Son said, holding tight. “You are very vulnerable.” His gaze grew distant. “Your story threads are complex and woven into an intricate pattern.” He chuckled to himself. “No wonder my son struggled at times. And why the elders believed he was the only Story Weaver up to the challenge.”
“Your son?”
“Moon Man.”
I relaxed and wondered why I hadn’t noticed the resemblance. The weapons must have distracted me.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes.” My voice squeaked.
“Let us go back.”
With a dizzying swirl of color the Avibian Plains spun around us like sand grains caught in a whirlwind. The daylight turned to night and trees erupted from the ground, turning the flat landscape into a forest.
Movement underneath me jerked to the side as pain pierced my shoulder. I relived the events of the night of the ambush in quick succession. My time with Valek and enduring the hot and cold fever sped by along with the trip to the Magician’s Keep. Everything I’d done and everyone I’d talked to flashed in front of me. A span of blackness arose after Ben’s smug face jumped into view. I flinched as fear pushed me to run and hide, but I had no control over my body or the images.
Midnight Son didn’t release me until we reached the present. I sank to the ground exhausted, which seemed strange since I hadn’t done anything.
“You did all the work,” he said.
Looping the octopus around my neck, I pulled my cloak around my shoulders. The air had turned icy. So much for this being the last day of the cold season.
“Then what did you do?” I asked.
“I watched and learned.”
I clutched the fabric of my cloak tight. “And?”
“It confirmed that the reedwither plant is not the culprit.”
Another dead end.
“It also confirmed that you did not die.”
“What?”
“You are the Soulfinder. You have the ability to bring a person back to life by healing the body and returning the person’s soul. You could have kept your soul inside your body after i
t died, then healed yourself.”
I’d returned two souls—Stono’s and Gelsi’s. Both killed themselves within a year of being saved, and I’d vowed never to do it again. Good to know that, in my panic, I hadn’t reanimated myself. A shudder ripped through me.
“If I had done that, would that have caused my problem?” Stono hadn’t had magic, but Gelsi had. However, I couldn’t remember if she’d still had access to her powers after I brought her back to life.
“That is an interesting question.”
“And do you have an interesting answer?”
“No. But it does not matter.” His eyes gleamed.
Energized, I shot to my feet. “Do you know what happened to my magic?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It is blocked.”
“Like a null shield?”
“No.”
Frustration rose and I tightened my grip on my cloak’s rough fabric until my fingernails pressed into my palms. I drew in a calming breath. If Moon Man had learned how to be cryptic and annoying from his father, I needed to choose my words with care. “How is my magic blocked?”
“It just is.”
I clamped down on a growl. “You said it was unlike a null shield. Can you explain?”
“A null shield blocks magic from both directions, while this only prevents you from using magic. However, you are vulnerable to magic. For now.”
Old news. “What is ‘this’? A poison? Magic? A virus? A one-way null shield?”
He didn’t respond.
I searched his expression. “You don’t know!”
No reaction.
Groaning, I plopped back onto the ground, lying back with my arm over my eyes. “You’re not going to tell me. Are you?” My throat closed as a hot pressure built. Sheer force of will kept tears from spilling.
“I can tell you this.”
I peeked at him.
“You will figure this out, Soulfinder.”
“When?”
“When the time is right.”
Midnight Son sounded just like Moon Man.
“Did you teach your son how to be cryptic or is it an inborn trait for Story Weavers?” I asked.
“Inborn. We guide, but we do not provide easy answers.”